Bellarke Oneshots and Prompts

Part 9

Prompt: Imagine Person A stopping in to see Person B at their job everyday, but they never say hello to each other because they're too shy. Now, imagine Person B leaving work to find Person A outside, smoking a cigarette, and getting really angry at A because B built them up to be this cute, interesting person and can't stand to know that they're wasting their health like this. After B tells A this, A offers to quit, and thanks B for their concern, proceeding to ask them out.

Bellamy Blake was always excited to deliver mail to St. Peter's Hospital. Every weekday at 10:07 sharp, he made his stop at the main reception desk, where a pretty blonde always sat behind a computer. They never really spoke, just exchanged the usual "Sign please", "thanks", and "have a good one"'s. But it was enough to make Bellamy's heart flutter every time he pulled up in the roundabout at the entrance, dressed in his khakis and polo shirt.

Clarke sat behind a computer all day, doing nothing but taking calls and receiving packages and bill statements. She took the job at the hospital only to get a leg up, hoping that she could move up to a nursing position when she finished school. And she hadn't enjoyed it until the cute, curly headed delivery guy started delivering. His bright, shy smile made her morning, and she often found herself wondering what he did in his spare time. Did he have pets? Siblings? An elderly grandmother that he took grocery shopping once a week? Or, the question she always thought but never wanted to admit: did he have a girlfriend? It didn't matter to her anyways. She had no connection to the man. After all, she only knew his name because it was printed clearly on his name tag attached to his shirt--which was quickly approaching her.

Startled out of her thoughts, she knocked over a stack of papers, and hurriedly picked them up as he waited patiently.

"Sign please," he asked, slightly embarrassed for her, but also finding her flustered look rather cute. She took the handheld device and signed hurriedly before handing it back. "Thanks. Have a good one." He gave her a smile before turning to walk away.

Clarke sighed in frustration, brushing the hair out of her face. "I'm taking my break," she announced loudly to the near-deaf woman she worked with, who nodded kindly. Clarke walked out the front door, planning to go for a stroll to calm her down before returning. She stopped shortly outside the door, catching sight of Bellamy seated on a bench next to the fountain. Steering a little to the left so that she could see him as she walked by, she tried to make herself look professional and hot at the same time, but lost the facade when she saw the cigarette.

Suddenly irrationally angry, she changed direction and stalked toward him, eyes narrowed. He smiled at her, but it quickly slipped from his face as he noticed her expression.

"You!" she exclaimed, standing less than two feet from him. He glanced around anxiously, wondering what people were thinking as she began her rant. "For five months, I have watched you walk in and out of that door--" she paused to point, "--thinking how cute you were, and how much I would love to get to know you. I determined that you were a charming young man, with a younger brother you played baseball with and an elderly grandmother that you helped get around town, and you volunteered at the animal shelter, and were good with children and liked celery and peanut butter. And I thought that maybe you weren't opposed to having a significant other, but maybe you just haven't found the right one yet. Or hell, maybe you had, and you're happily in love and getting married this year. And then I come out here, and see you smoking that goddamn cigarette, filled with too many harmful substances for me to count, and wasting your life with a stupid, unhealthy habit that only makes you look like a moron! Do you know how many people die from lung cancer every year? Almost 160,000! Do you want to be one of those people, talking through a box in your throat? Or better yet, dead within the next ten years? How dare you waste this life you were given on some bullshit that only promotes capitalism!" She didn't know where that last part came from, but realizing that she'd just ranted at a total stranger for their cigarette use, she flicked, turning on her heel and stalking away.

Bellamy sat shell shocked on the park bench, cigarette forgotten between his fingers. He quickly regained his wits, and stood up.

"Wait!" he called after her, and she turned around, eyes flashing. He jogged to where she stood, taking a deep breath. "Thank you. For, uh, bringing this to my attention. It's a bad habit, and I'd stop if it meant I could take you out for dinner on Friday." It was a long shot, and he knew it. No way would she ever say--

"I'd love to go to dinner with you," she replied, arms crossed. "But put that nasty thing out and don't do it again. Promise me," Clarke demanded, and Bellamy instantly dropped the cigarette, stomping it out before putting it in a nearby ashtray.

"Done." Clarke stared for a moment, then her face broke into a smug smile.

"Good. I like Italian, and I'm free from 5:30 to 9," she told him, and he nodded enthusiastically.

"I'll meet you at La Farfalla at 5:30 on Friday?"

"Deal. See you on Friday."

"Thanks."

"Have a good one."